A surgeon recounts a poignant journey of a patient with terminal brain cancer, her resilience and profound acceptance of mortality, albeit with one caveat.
Jayshree came to me from Chandigarh over a year ago. She was in her mid-sixties and spoke her Hindi with a Punjabi twang. Her daughter sat next to her, trepidatious; they had made this arduous journey already knowing what was to come. She had a ghoulish brain tumour in her right temporal lobe. The moment I picked up the scan, from its beastly appearance, I knew it was Grade 4 cancer. “How did you happen to get an MRI?” I asked, since she looked relatively well to me. “I had a seizure,” she told me, “and my doctor asked for a scan,” she narrated simply. “I’m from a small town. I am resigned to my fate,” she surrendered.
After a detailed examination to ascertain she had no neurological dysfunction, I gently explained that she would need an operation to remove this tumour, followed by radiation and chemotherapy to control it, and “despite all of that, it would come back at some point,” I emphasized. “So then why are we going through all this?” she logically questioned. “It’ll improve your longevity by around a year or two,” I said honestly. “And I’m hoping even the quality of your life.” To most healthy people, adding a year to their life might not mean much, but to someone who has terminal cancer, it’s a lifetime. With Jayshree, we had gone from completely healthy to a diagnosis of end-stage cancer in a matter of days. It is a simple yet complex fact of life: things are neither separate nor identical.
We went ahead and removed Jayshree’s tumour. Under the high magnification of the surgical microscope, a world of intricate vascularity and delicate neural tissue comes into sharp focus. The discolouration of the tumour was clearly visible on the surface as I delineated it from normal brain. Its insides were necrotic and rotten – a grim testament to its aggressive nature. I used my suction as a fine tip magic wand in one hand while a combination of micro-scissors, dissectors, and bipolar forceps in the other hand worked in concert, their impossibly thin and precisely angled tips meticulously dissecting, coagulating, and teasing away the tumour, helping me get the whole thing out. Every subtle difference in texture, every micro-vessel, was magnified, allowing me to carefully navigate the treacherous interface between the malignancy and healthy neural pathways. Once complete, I methodically inspected the cavity for any remaining specks of abnormal tissue. The brain looked clean again – devoid of any unwanted intruder. The dura was carefully reapproximated, the bone flap was secured, and the scalp was closed in layers.
A few days later, she was discharged in pristine condition. No one could tell she had had major brain surgery. “Thank you,” she said with hands folded as she left to continue further therapy in Chandigarh. Her life was perfect for one year. She stayed in touch with me giving me regular updates about her wellbeing and sending me funny reels on Instagram. But then, her left foot started dragging. Almost nothing is as good as it seems, for the simple reason that nothing lasts.
I asked them to repeat a scan, and as expected, the tumour was back – this time even more sinister, as it infiltrated the area of the brain responsible for leg function. “If I operate again, there is a high chance you’ll lose the ability to move your leg,” I told her, explaining that with the recurrence of the tumour her survival had been further shortened. And then, what she told me struck me like a gong. “Iss duniya mein koi amrut peekar toh nahi aata hai,” translated as no one comes into this world after drinking the divine nectar of immortality. Everyone who is born into this world is mortal and susceptible to the challenges, difficulties, pain, and ultimately, death that is inherent to human existence. It was a stark reminder of the fundamental vulnerability we all share, a truth that transcends individual suffering.
“What would you like to do?” I asked, giving her the options of considering one more surgery or continuing further chemotherapy. The choice was between more survival with a significant disability or shorter survival until nature rapidly induced the dysfunction. It was a moment where the limits of medical science met the raw reality of human mortality. Each of us is defined at heart by the questions that we ask; the answers we find are almost beside the point. “There is no right answer to this,” I explained, quoting my mentor, who used to tell all his patients who were faced with a dilemma, “Whatever decision you make will be the best decision for you.”
This profound truth resonated with an observation made by Thomas Merton, the American monk and prolific writer, who said, “Science can solve all our problems, except the deepest ones. For that there’s only one place we can go, and that’s within.” In that quiet consultation room, a soul confronted the ultimate question of how to live and how to face the end, knowing that the deepest answers were not in my surgical tools, but within her.
Jayshree went back home to try a second line of chemotherapy. Over the ensuing months, her hair withered away, her skin crumbled, and parts of her didn’t want to live anymore. I wondered about the thoughts that might be plaguing her. Her wishes and her desires. What questions do people ask themselves when the end is eminent, when there is time for introspection? How hard is it to cling to a positive outlook to life when life itself is in question? What does the brain contemplate, in its final moments, contemplating itself?
“I know my end is near. I have only one wish before I die,” she sent me a message a few weeks ago. “While I’m still in my senses, I want you write about me and share my story.”
Her words, uttered from the precipice of existence, were not a plea for more time, but a profound act of defiance against oblivion. It wasn’t just a surgical wish but her desire for meaning and connection, a final act of agency in the face of the inevitable. It was her legacy, her voice, echoing beyond the boundaries of her fading life.
My dear Jayshree, I hope you are reading this knowing that your story lives on forever, and that in every heart touched by your journey, a part of you will continue to bloom.
35 thoughts on “The surgical wish”
Thank you for seeing me not just as a patient, but as a person with a voice and a story worth telling. Your words have given meaning to my struggle and strength to my healing. You have fulfilled a heartfelt wish of mine, and I will forever be grateful.
Dear Jaishree,
Thank you for sharing your story. It gives and will give strength courage and solace to many who face similar situations.
It takes real resilience to go through what you are facing.
Praying for your comfort and healing 🫂
Much love,
Meher
Well said… the article is well written and appreciate Jayshree’s approach and resilience.
Dear Jaishree and Mazda,
Thank you for sharing your powerful story,in such an authentic and meaningful way. It has meant a lot to me, and I am sure to each person who has the good fortune of reading it.
Sending love and hugs to you both,
Regards,
Natasha
God bless her and God bless you Dr Mazda!!
Jaishree,
Keep up your spirit !
My all the best wishes ,
GOD BLESS YOU !!
Heartwarming story of resilience and bravery. Best wishes to both of you.
An insightful account of the profound existential question , that each one of us, will have to ask ourselves, one day .
Dear Doc,
Your last para reciprocated our thoughts and feelings for dear Jayshree.
I weep and pray.
God Bless you!
God bless the BOTH of you.
Wish you all the best Dr. Mazda.
God bless you and Jaishree
Dearest Dr Mazda sir…….
Wonderful & Kind hearted Doctor & writer has fulfilled the Desire of Jayshree Goel ……..
Bravo sir for your dedication and commitment & ever obliging nature to try to fulfill & help each & every persons coming in your contact…..
I only need Dictionary to understand your TREPIDATIOUS & ARDUOUS 😎
All your followers are not from Oxford 🌹, some are simple Gujjus 😳
God Bless Dr.Mazda and Jaishree.
Not your usual fun article. Really makes one think. If only we lived each day with a conscious awareness that we are mere mortals, we would live more fulfilling and enriching lives sans all the drama.
Salute to Jayshree’s indomitable spirit and to you for being her strongest supporter.
What an inspiring story of a courageous woman, who in the face of death might have deciphered the prompt of her inner divinity that I DO MATTER. The spirit/soul continues to progress on its purposeful journey while the temporary cloak/body keeps changing. More power & blessings to both of you 🌹
Heart touching real story brave Jayshree mam God bless you and thank you dr Mazda sir for sharing real story excellent writing skill Sir..
We are all born to die. The luckier ones will go in their sleep, others will in myriad other ways… Most of us will not know when the Reaper will call but a very few brave souls are informed in advance of his visit.
God keep you and your family brave till the end, knowing that you will progress to a painless and eternally peaceful other world!
God bless Jayshree for her bravery, courage and concern for humanity now and after her. I commend you Dr Mazda for honoring her wish.
This piece moved me deeply. You’ve not just written about a patient, you’ve honoured a life, and in doing so, reminded us what it truly means to care. Through your words, Jayshree lives on with courage, dignity and grace.
You may be a surgeon by profession, but it’s moments like these that remind me that you’re a wonderful human being and a healer of the soul.
Oh my God!
You touched my soul Jayshree and Mazda!
Truly some people give meaning to life.
Your courage and defiance from letting disease define you, is not just inspirational, it is a testimony to the indomitable human spirit exemplified by your courage!!
A powerful reflection on life, loss, and love! This made me emotional. Jayshree’s acceptance of her fate and her one final wish, I can feel her with me. She reminds me of the kind of strength we all hope to find in ourselves someday.Reading this felt like I was quietly sitting in the room with both of you. The honesty, the pain, the beauty of her final wish.. you gave her something beyond medicine. You gave her story a place to live.
As always well written Sir!
Superb Dr. You are great.
Great doctor with great deeds.
God bless you Dr. Mazda.
This is such a beautiful and touching story of a woman with much wisdom. Life is a cycle and he/she who understands this is the most free and lives truest to one’s nature. God bless you, Jayshree. Your story has definitely touched me for the rest of my life. Hugs.
Dear Jaishree… know that you have outlived one so many super healthy people out there !
Such is life, sometimes sweet and sometimes not so…
You’ve proven to be brave and strong, now don’t forget to add icing on the cake… by having some fun and making merry…
God be with you, always !
Hiya Doc… you’re simply amazing 🤩
For making Jaishree the main lead in this story !
As always the underlying emotions not only of your patients but yours too…make a deep dive.
Honestly, sometimes I wonder what goes on in your mind through all the ‘procedures’…. would like to deep dive in that too, sometimes.
May God keep His Nazar on all of suffering humanity & also give us more Doctors like Mazda
Dear,Jayshree,God bless you and give u eternal joy here and as u make ur transition to the other side of his creation. Sooner or later all humans have to take this journey but I salute you for looking at it calmly and accepting the obvious. Thanks to dear doctor Mazda for being so loving and understanding under all conditions of his patients.God bless you dear.
Very heart warming
Dr Mazda, I have read many wonderful articles of yours, and admire both the dexterity that you possess in your very delicate neurosurgical operations, and the way you u convey to the lay public and medical professionals, the care and humility that you possess! Kudos to you!
Dear Ms Jaishree Goel
You will be impossible to forget because you have given us so much to remember. Being human is being mortal but living in the hearts of people whom you leave behind is the nearest one can come to immortality.
Dear Dr Mazda,
Thank you so much for this writing this piece. It reminded me of the book ‘When Breath Becomes Air’ by Dr Paul Kalanithi, a neurosurgeon battling brain cancer in his mid 30s.
Wish you lot of power, with the knife and the pen. Such stories have an impact much deeper and meaningful beyond the precision of the scalpel.
Very moving account -I have lost my father to ca lung and an aunt to some tumor in the brain with an unknown primary-a part of u dies with them when u see them suffering-it’s like going through death when u r still alive …
Dear sister Jayshree Please recite Gayatri mantra as many times as possible every day.
авто mailsco.online играют важную роль в ежедневной реальности людей, предоставляя комфорт и мобильность. Современные машины предоставляют инновации и защиту, повышая уровень существования.